


Solitude

by michmak



Series: The Wizard of Odd, and other stories [22]
Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michmak/pseuds/michmak





	Solitude

Prompt: 021 – Lonely (list 2)  
Word Count: 783  
Progress: 22/100

 

He has always had the ability to be lonely, even when surrounded by people. He often thinks it's just the way he's made - unable to really connect with anyone, even though it seems people connect to him.

He ain't sure if lonely is even really the right word - because he's got friends. Leastways, he considers his crew friends, of a sorts. And there's Zoe - she's his friend, of that he is certain. Has been since the moment they met and survived their first battle together.

'Sides which, he's got his ghosts too - memories of his Ma, smiling at him and telling him to wash behind his ears, or holding back her tears as she proudly watched him head off to war. The ranch hands are there too, the men he grew up with - each one like a father; an uncle; a brother - showing him how to ride, how to work, how to hold everything inside and remain stoic, even when you have to shoot a favored horse or cull the herd of the weakest animals. And lastly he's got his men and women; the soldiers who died while under his command. Some of them - most of them towards the end, when soldiers were coming to him because they had no one else to lead them - he don't even know their names. But he knows their faces. He remembers how they died. And those memories are all jumbled up inside him - sometimes, he swears it's his Ma he sees, lying there in the dirt covered in blood - a hole blown through her belly.

How can a man be lonely with all them memories?

A hand traces his face, the skin of it soft against his jaw. A warm heat presses into him. He finds it comforting. Every night, he wanders the valley of the shadow of death, but ain't no one every really wandered it with him before. He wonders who it is, even as he sees old Gumbo, sitting in a bunker with his arms blowed off. Codger still has his boots on though; spurs still attached to his heels, even if they are rusted now. He sighs and shrugs; bows his head; fights back the bitter gall that rises in his throat as he wonders how much more one man can take. He doesn't think he can do this on his own. He's not strong like his Ma was - running a ranch on her lonesome; keeping him safe so he could grow up and fail her.

_"Didn't fail her,"_ a soft voice whispers beside him. _"She's proud of you - sees the boy that was in the man you are. Sees the way you fight and care; wishes you would take some comfort where you could find it. Says the battle belongs to more than you now."_

He ain't surprised when he realizes it's River, pressed against his side. _"She tol' you that, little albatross?"_ His smile is wistful when he asks. _How come she don't talk to me when I see her?"_

River wraps an arm around his waist, _"Because you don't want to hear what she has to say. You'd rather think you let her down. You don't know how to live without guilt."_

Mal thinks he should protest that, but he knows it's the truth so he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he anchors her more firmly against his side and they continue walking.

Her presence beside him is a comfort. Sometimes he stops and points out the face of a friend, whispers a memory, smiling or frowning depending on what it is. She listens to it all, nodding and squeezing his hand when his words get lost on their way up his throat and lodge behind his eyes, making them water. They're almost at the end of the valley when he stops and turns to face her.

_"How come you came with me tonight, little albatross? Ain't no one else ever wandered this valley with me before."_

_"I wanted to keep you company,"_ she replies. _"You don't have to be so lonely any more. You have me to share this with now. I'll help you bury your dead, if you'll let me."_

Her hair flutters slightly in the wind, strands dancing across her eyes. He reaches up and brushes it back behind her ear, noting the way the calluses on his hand catch the silken threads of it. She leans into his palm, nuzzles it with her cheek and smiles at him.

_"You mean I ain't alone no more?"_ he whispers.

_"You never were,"_ she replies.


End file.
